Economies of Scale
by liketolaugh
Summary: Kanda never realized how much there was to see outside the lab. He wished Alma could've seen it, too. It was so much bigger than they'd thought it would be.


**A/N: So this was in response to a request for a suffering-oriented Alma and Kanda story. It didn't quite turn out as expected, so it's more bittersweet/angsty than horrifying, but still. *shrug* As for the title, I've been doing Economics work for most of the day. I blame that.**

 **Title: Economies of Scale**

 **Author: liketolaugh**

 **Rating: T**

 **Pairings: None**

 **Genre: Friendship**

 **Warnings: None**

 **Summary: Kanda never realized how much there was to see outside the lab. He wished Alma could've seen it, too.  
**

 **Disclaimer: Like hell I own D. Gray-man.**

* * *

"Yuu, what do you think it's like outside the lab?"

Alma leaned back and stared at the ceiling, eyes bright and smile wistful and large, as if he could see past the lightbulb-lined roof above. Yuu snorted.

"Che. Why would _I_ know, dumbass?"

"I think it's big," Alma said, unperturbed, head tipped back. "Bigger than anything! And I bet there are lots of people, and foods, and maybe more things like that rat we saw - um, animals."

Yuu scoffed. "I doubt it," he told the other boy scornfully. "I mean, how big could it possibly be? I bet it's a total letdown."

"Don't be such a downer, Yuu," Alma chided, bumping his shoulder against his friend's. Yuu growled at him, bristling, but Alma ignored it and went on cheerfully, "I bet it's at least _ten times_ as big as the lab! Or twenty, or thirty, or a _hundred times,_ even!" He flung out his arms enthusiastically and then flopped back on the ground, grinning at the thought.

"Don't be stupid," Yuu snapped sulkily, hiding a shiver at the thought. "Outside can't possibly be _that_ big."

"But imagine if it _were,"_ Alma said dreamily, a stupid grin on his face. There was the thud of a door, and Alma instantly popped up and scrambled over. "Edgar! Edgar! How big is the outside world?" Without waiting for an answer, "I think it's at _least_ ten times as big as the lab, but Yuu says that's stupid and there's no way!"

Edgar stopped where he stood, visibly startled, and Alma skidded to a half at his feet, tipping his head back to look at him with wide, expectant eyes. Yuu was slower and stopped a few paces behind him, less enthusiastic but looking genuinely interested.

Edgar blinked at both of them, processed the question, winced internally, and, finally, sighed heavily, a sound stuffed with a strange, dark emotion neither boy recognized. Then he smiled wearily, tucked his folder under his arm, and considered.

"The world outside is… many, many times larger than the lab," he said at last, voice tight and as strained as his smile. "Millions, maybe billions times its size."

Both boys' eyes widened, and Edgar felt a lump in his throat and had to look away, clearing it awkwardly.

"You're lying," Yuu accused, voice hushed.

Edgar blinked rapidly. "Not at all," he promised. "In fact, I'll… I'll find the two of you a picture book. So you can see." It was the very, very least he could do.

Alma let out a delighted cry, and Yuu's eyes widened further before he looked away quickly, too late to hide the happy glint in his eyes and unable to conceal the excited flush in his cheeks.

"Thank you, Edgar!" Alma exclaimed, throwing his arms around the scientist and squeezing tight.

Edgar had never felt so low in his life. "You're welcome."

* * *

Kanda had been General Tiedoll's apprentice for three months, and he'd only just started to speak again the week before. Mugen still felt strange and foreign in his hands; the feeling put a sting in his fingers and lead in his chest, and he hated it, so he was determined to train until it went away.

He'd been trying for three months now, though, and it hadn't worked yet.

Kanda kept at it anyway, scoring vicious scars into the thick trees on one edge of the clearing. On the opposite side, his master sat propped against a tree, staring thoughtfully at a canvas, and overhead, the blue sky was darkening to orange and, just visible above the treeline, to scarlet.

He was constantly talking, and Kanda timed his slices to the rhythm of his words.

"Marie has been asking after you, you know. He was delighted to hear that you were speaking again."

Kanda tossed his head, sending his hair flying, and cut open a tree to his right in a smooth motion of feet and shoulders.

Tiedoll chuckled. "I know, I know. I've told you a dozen times before. But he's really very interested in seeing you, Yuu. Would you be willing to return to Headquarters for at least a few days?"

Kanda bared his teeth, slid one foot around, and cut clean through a four-inch-thick sapling.

Tiedoll sighed and smiled wearily. "That's alright, Yuu. We won't go back until you're ready." He looked down and tapped at his canvas thoughtfully. "What do you think I should draw? Perhaps the deer we saw a few hours ago? I know you were fascinated by them; you almost managed to touch that fawn before it noticed you."

Kanda paused, and then, with an almost imperceptible shrug, snapped back into motion. Mugen's sharp edge bit into soft, clean wood, and then slid away to expose it to the air.

Tiedoll smiled. "The deer it is, then." He set the pencil to the canvas, but had barely started to line out the shape of the fawn's elegant torso before a muffled clang made him look up sharply.

The sight that greeted him made him relax again almost instantly, and he smiled fondly. Kanda's sword lay abandoned at his feet, his now-empty hand still stretched out in front of him even as his head turned to follow the path of a bounding rabbit, eyes comically wide; it must have startled him.

It disappeared into the forest and Kanda whirled on Tiedoll, eyes still round, and pointed in the direction it had gone. Tiedoll chuckled softly.

"That was a rabbit, Yuu," he explained without further prompting. Kanda tilted his head, frowning. "Some people call it a bunny or a hare. It's an herbivore, part of the rodent family. When we make dinner, I'll tell you the story of the Tortoise and the Hare."

Kanda scowled at him and bent to pick up his sword again, apparently satisfied. Tiedoll chuckled again; he knew what Kanda thought of his fairy tales and folk myths, but he just couldn't resist. He hated to think that a child, even one from such mysterious circumstances as Kanda, had never heard them before.

Despite his rank, Tiedoll hadn't been told much about Kanda's circumstances - in fact, he hadn't been told anything at all, only that he was difficult to handle. He had worked out for himself - it was hard not to - that Kanda had been through an intensely traumatic experience in recent times, and also that he had, in all likelihood, been locked up his whole life, possibly kept in relative isolation. It saddened him, but he was glad he could help Kanda through his first steps.

Kanda went back to training, twisting and slicing. His footwork was improving, Tiedoll noted happily, and his strikes were stronger, faster, and more precise each time. He learned quickly.

"Yuu," Tiedoll started at last, unable to deny his curiosity. "What do you think? Of the world outside, I mean."

Kanda twitched at the inquiry, and Tiedoll almost expected him to lash out at him for asking the question. He nearly did, in fact, but turned it aside to land a vicious strike on the trunk of a broad oak. And then he went still, the point of his katana dipping close to the ground.

"It's too bright," he said at last, voice rough and hoarse with disuse. Tiedoll paused, glancing at his student with dim, concerned eyes. "I can't _fucking_ see anything."

Tiedoll smiled sadly and lowered his head to the canvas again. "Don't worry, Yuu. You'll adjust."

"Che!" Kanda snorted, and went back to attacking the trees with renewed vigor. Tiedoll let him, but his gaze lingered, filled with worry.

* * *

"I'm sorry, Yuu," Alma whispered, clutching weakly at Kanda, just that little exertion making him crumble a little more. "I'm so sorry, I'm so so sorry."

"Shut up," Kanda mumbled, struggling to sit up a little better against the wall he'd chosen. His chest ached, it hurt to breathe. But he never let go of Alma. "Shut up, don't worry about it."

"I don't really want to hurt you."

"I know, okay? I know." Kanda was shaking.

Alma was shaking, too, in his arms, little tears flowing from his eyes, but he quieted, and for a few moments, neither one spoke.

"Yuu, I can't see."

"Of course you can't see," Kanda muttered, not willing to release his old friend, not even to scrub away the wetness at his eyes. "You're dying."

He looked down, and that fucking _idiot_ was smiling weakly, gazing up at him blindly.

"I can't see," he repeated, voice cracking with effort and weakness. "Yuu… what's it like outside?"

Kanda swallowed, and he lowered his head, hiding both his face and Alma's in his long hair.

"It's big, Alma," he managed after a long moment, voice hoarse. "So big it's fucking _unbelievable._ I could sit here all day trying to tell you everything about it."

"Please?" Alma whispered, and Kanda couldn't deny that, not now.

His mouth was dry, but he licked his lips and spoke anyway.

"I saw all those places from Edgar's picture book - the desert is dry as hell and dusty as fuck, but the beach beats it out for being a pain to clean up after. There's a really fucking annoying number of animals in forests, and they make a hellton of noise. Can't ever sleep in a forest."

Alma was silent, listening to him, fingers clutching convulsively and crumbling more and more every moment. Kanda's voice was shaking; he ignored it.

"Cities are really freaking busy, too. I think you'd have liked them best, Alma, you fucking butterfly. There are so many people." Kanda trailed off, and then picked up again when he heard Alma's breath hitch tremulously. "You'd like the people. I met a lot of people, Alma, you wouldn't even believe. Marie and Tiedoll and Lenalee and Jerry and Reever and Johnny, the fucking sis-com and the idiot rabbit and the beansprout…"

"D-did you make friends?"

There was a definite tremble in Alma's voice, shaky and dangerously weak, but Kanda knew it was coming anyway, so there was no fucking point dreading it. He hesitated for a long time, and then he nodded, slow and reluctant.

"Yeah… I guess I did."

Alma smiled, visible tears trailing across his face. "I'm glad, Yuu." A moment's pause, and then, "Tell me about them?"

Kanda took a deep breath, and then he started.

"The first guy I met was Marie, a while after he got blinded in a fight…"

Kanda talked. He talked for a long time, telling Alma everything he could think of, everything about the people he'd met and the things they'd seen and the things they'd done, any stories he could remember Tiedoll telling him, everything. Kanda wasn't much of a talker, but once he'd started, he couldn't stop.

He kept talking long after Alma went still in his arms, went limp and lifeless, and then didn't stop even when Alma was dust between his fingers, staring fixedly at the ground, silent tears trailing down his cheeks and an undeniable shake in his shoulders.

By the time Kanda finally ran out of things to say, he'd realized that he wasn't going to die. Not today. And he stood up.

Next time he saw Alma, he'd have more stories to tell him.

"I promise," he told the air roughly, and then he started forward.

* * *

 **Done! *beam* Once I started that one, I actually couldn't stop. *chuckle* Like I said, not as upsetting as intended, but I liked doing it, anyway, and I don't see a whole lot of Kanda and Alma in the lab, either. (I seem to be trending that lately. *rueful*) Thanks for reading, and please review!**


End file.
